


Aven

by SamanthaEndeavours



Category: Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë, The Autobiography of Jane Eyre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8148317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaEndeavours/pseuds/SamanthaEndeavours
Summary: An animal adaptation of Jane Eyre, created originally as the creative response to Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte but became something more. Uses exact quotes and adjusted quotes from original Bronte novel.





	

Is a fish still a fish if it has no fins to swim? Is a tree still a tree if it has no branches to sway in the wind? Is the moon still the moon if it does not shine silver and brighter than all other stars in the sky? Miss. Linnet hopes it is as she stands on one of the reeds that grow, however weak still straight, from the bank of the swamp. She stands in the light of her only friend, her eyes closed and her feathers rustling like the leaves high above her in the tree tops. Miss. Linnet views the world from the ground but her dreams are of the sky. Her feathers are plain but soft, her colours dull but well-shaped making her altogether an ordinary bird or she would have been an ordinary bird had she had wings. Miss. Linnet looked like she should have wings, her feathers were plumper on her sides where they should sit and her tail feathers flicked up as if something should reside there but still when the birds who could dwell in the sky would spread their limbs and fly Miss Linnet was left on the ground forever stuck in the home she detested.   
Miss. Linnet’s warden, Mrs. Frog would suggest that Miss. Linnet lived in the swamp lands beside the vast forest that bordered on the moors but Miss Linnet was sure what she was experiencing was not living, merely existing as the swamps where doing all but killing her. The marshlands restrained the movement of her tiny talons; the air was thick with dew and suffocating for a tiny bird that, in Miss Linnet’s opinion, belonged in the sky.   
“Come down Miss. Linnet.” Were the words that snapped her out of her dream of the tree tops and night sky dragging her back to the ground where she was stuck. Mrs Frog stood at the base of the reed and glared up at Miss. Linnet as she slowly climbed down. It was not rare for Miss. Linnet to stand atop the reeds as when that was where the breeze was freshest and she could almost imagine the wings she longed for as the wind blew through her feathers and cooled her beak. Although Mrs Frog was never far away and would seem to revel in any opportunity to drag Miss Linnet back to the muddy earth. It was not until Miss. Linnet reached the ground and cowered in the shadow of Mrs Frog that she continued, “You are not to stand atop the reeds.”   
“Pardon, Mrs. Frog?” Miss. Linnet asked, for although she had heard her, Mrs Frog’s meaning was lost on her. She took one moment to completely take in Mrs. Frog’s features, she was a frog of robust frame, square shouldered and strong slimy legs, she was not tall but still sat at double the height of Miss Linnet where she stood. Her large face was sat back in her body, the solid look broken only by her low brow that shadowed her regular mouth and slitted nose. However her eyes shone beneath her brow, devoid of ruth; her skin was slick and slimy over its dark and opaque colouring. The longer Miss. Linnet persued her features the more anxiety gathered in her being.   
“The tadpoles are not able to climb the reeds as they are contained to the waters until they grow, and until that day you are restricted to the ground also. I will not allow you to be so far above them,” Mrs. Frog explained looking down at the murky waters where the tadpoles swam aimlessly in circles as she watched.  
“But I am still above them where I stand now, how are the reeds of greater distaste then here?” Miss. Linnet asked quietly. She could not take the words back however much she wished she could as Mrs. Frog glared down at her like she could erase her from existence with just on distained stare. Mrs. Frog swelled even larger as her throat expanded in one fury filled inhale.   
“Never does your lack of satisfaction cease to abhor me, it is only by the goodness in my being that I allow you to remain here and yet you are never content in my kindness. A creature spawned by the devil you are, question me again and the water will be your only future and end.” Mrs. Frog, with one sure kick landed behind Miss. Linnet in the wet mud spraying her with the sticky residue of the landing. Mrs Frog was preparing to bound once more into the water but paused and turned back to Miss. Linnet as she let out a quiet whimper.   
“Speak or be silent Aven.” Mrs. Frog had come to refer to Miss. Linnet as Aven, not by name nor species. She remarked that this was the only title worthy of a bird without wings. Miss. Linnet tried not to, but on occasion she would use it for herself; whether she just wanted to claim it so Mrs. Frog no longer had power over it or she believed it was all she was worth, she did not know.  
“Why don’t I have wings? Have I lost them? Need I find them?” She asked quickly before she could stop herself. And instead of a response she received a shrill laugh from Mrs Frog.   
“You never deserved wings Aven. You hardly deserve life, why should you receive wings as well?” Mrs. Frog finally said, once she was finished laughing.  
“But I’m a bird...” She said, almost inaudibly.   
“Are you?” Was all Mrs. Frog said in response, a smirk forming on her face.  
Aven turned and stifled a cry, she heard the splash of Mrs. Frog jumping in the water and looked back up at her spot in the reed. There must be more, on occasion no matter how much evidence suggests that there is nothing more a small wingless bird could still believe. She took one small undecided step towards the trees that towered like a broken wall before her, and then another and another. Mrs. Frog emerged from the water behind her just as Aven’s steps became longer, quicker. There was a croak and a shout as Miss. Linnet felt herself running for the trees. She looked back only when the pain struck her, she saw Mrs. Frog hopping after her feathers in her webbed fingers that were freshly wrenched from Aven’s hind quarters. She didn’t even notice when she finally reached the trees, she just continued on, picking up speed as the ground hardened now scattered with leaves and broken branches rather than damp with the oozing saturation of the swamp water.   
Aven couldn’t make herself stop running, or crying as tears saturated the feathers around her eyes. Eventually she slowed and collapsed, the ground was hard, but welcome after a life on mud and she let herself sleep. Her friend shone through the trees, watching over her as she dreamed.


End file.
